


Everything Must Be Dared/Endured

by the_sound_of_inevitability



Series: Prickle and Spark [2]
Category: Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 03:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sound_of_inevitability/pseuds/the_sound_of_inevitability
Summary: For a split second he had thought it was like an elaborate sting operation, like the goddamn Cobras were gonna pop back into the locker room with a Polaroid camera and out Daniel as a fag, but then how would that work because Johnny was the one who was doing all the gay stuff, Johnny was the one macking on Daniel and rubbing himself against -Aaaaand Daniel has a hard-on. Again.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Series: Prickle and Spark [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211945
Comments: 60
Kudos: 102





	1. December 22nd, 1984

Thank God for Christmas break.

The doctor said Daniel’s leg will take six weeks to fully heal, potentially more if he puts too much weight on it, so even though he will eventually have to go back to school on crutches (and how the fuck he’s meant to carry all his shit on crutches he has no clue) he’s grateful for the opportunity to go full couch potato and let his knee recuperate. 

Lucille is working - she only gets Christmas Day off and then it’s back to the grind, apparently people who are into their fine dining don’t take a damn vacation - and Mr Miyagi is up to his eyeballs in maintenance, so Daniel is mostly left to his own devices. 

He’s cool with it. Ali dropped off some videos before her family whisked her away to Aspen for the holidays, and turns out there’s an advantage to dating a rich girl because these movies came out on VHS last month so he’s been going through them like there’s no tomorrow, barely even pausing to rewind a movie before he’s sticking the next one in the VCR.

Anything to take his mind off the constant hum of pain in his left knee.

On screen, Kevin Bacon is mad about something in a hayshed and the sound of Moving Pictures kicks up to indicate a musical number is on the horizon. Daniel takes another fistful of popcorn, grimacing at the feeling of the greasy butter on his fingers and focusing hard on the screen. 

Anything to take his mind off Johnny Lawrence. 

Turns out, focusing on the lyrics to this particular musical number - and what the fuck is _Footloose_ , is it a musical? No one even sings - was a bad choice.

_He holds you down_

_But I know you want to run_

_You're hot hot loaded like a gun_

_Oh you feel so trapped and confused_

And just like that, Daniel is back in that locker room. Back in Johnny’s arms - _his fucking freakishly long, muscly arms_ , his mind unhelpfully supplies - and Daniel can practically feel the heat coming off his body, wrapping his legs around the guy’s waist while Johnny goes to _town_ on Daniel’s neck.

For a split second he had thought it was like an elaborate sting operation, like the goddamn Cobras were gonna pop back into the locker room with a Polaroid camera and out Daniel as a fag, but then how would that work because _Johnny_ was the one who was doing all the gay stuff, _Johnny_ was the one macking on Daniel and rubbing himself against - 

Aaaaand Daniel has a hard-on. Again. 

He pauses _Footloose_ \- Kevin Bacon freezes on-screen, sliding down a stair railing and Daniel is _not_ looking at how the guy looks in a wifebeater - and reaches into his pants.

If he’s learned anything in the days since the tournament, it's that it really does speed things up if he just gets it out of his system straightaway.


	2. December 23rd, 1984 - AM

“How are the slopes?”

“Oh my - Daniel we’re - the  _ best -  _ wouldn’t believe,” Ali’s voice is distant and the phone line is crackly as all hell, and Daniel grimaces as he holds the receiver away from his ear.

“Ali,” he half-shouts, even though he’s not the one with the shitty phone, “I can’t hear you, call me tomorrow, OK?”

It sucks that the connection is so shitty - after three months of going through hell for the girl, it’d be nice to have just one romantic long-distance call with her, but apparently PacTel has other ideas. 

He’s also not sure he can have a conversation with Ali without his mouth betraying him at some point.

_ “Say, that ex of yours can really suck face, huh?” _

Daniel hears Ali laugh - it’s definitely not at anything he’s said - and then the call ends with a click. He glares at the receiver and replaces it on its hook. 


	3. December 23rd, 1984 - PM - Daniel

On a whim, between viewings of _Top Secret!_ and _Children of the Corn_ - _is that kid 12 or 57, what the fuck_ \- Daniel idly flips through the phone book under ‘La-’. 

He tells himself he’s looking for their name, making sure his ma has finally registered their new place with the Yellow Pages, but he skips a few pages further and looks down the line of names.

Lawniczak, M

Lawrance, BJ

Lawrance, Bonnie

Lawrance, C

Lawrance, Chester

Lawrance, David Jones

Lawrance, Nathan

Lawrence, Carl

Lawrence, Fred

Lawrence, K

No Lawrence, J.

Daniel realises his mistake instantly, and slams the phone book closed like he can avoid the creeping shame of realisation. 

Johnny won’t be in the fucking phone book, he’s seventeen years old. Their house phone will be under his parents’ name. And Daniel doesn’t know his parents’ name because he and Johnny are not friends. Guys who try to kill other guys probably don’t want that sort of information shared in case someone goes to the damn police. 

Besides, what was Daniel thinking of doing? Just call Johnny up all casually, _hey buddy, how’s your face after I kicked you into last week, how’s your throat after that rabid dog of a sensei nearly fucking killed you in the parking lot, tell you what’d make you feel better how about you ride that motorbike round here and we can make each other feel better, I’ll let you come anywhere this time_ \- 

He’s hard again.

“God fucking damn it,” Daniel growls at the air. He flings the phone book to the ground and shoves his hand into his pants, cursing Johnny Lawrence's name.

* * *

When he comes over his own fist the curses sound more like a prayer. 


	4. December 23rd, 1984 - PM - Johnny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Johnny in this fic is a bit more subdued than in Paler Than Grass mainly because he's dealing with what happens to him at the tournament. Hence this fic is a bit more of a slow burn than PTG was...

“Honey? Bobby’s here to see you,” Laura calls from the hallway, and Johnny buries his face further into his pillow. If he doesn’t answer, hopefully she’ll tell Bobby to leave.

He hasn’t seen any of the Cobras since the tournament. Some of his friends have tried to call but Johnny has been what Sid calls ‘moping like a nancy’ so they haven’t been able to reach him.

What’s the point. He's a loser. He’s always been a loser. Kreese was right. The last five years were just an intermission and now the main feature can recommence, the feature in which Johnny Lawrence has no friends and no future.

He hasn’t been sleeping well. His dreams, when they come, are a kaleidoscopic blur of the events on tournament day. Normally, he’s kissing LaRusso (and even though Johnny has tried to avoid thinking about it, it’s the best part of the dream) before wrapping a hand around his throat, and then he  _ is  _ LaRusso, looking up at himself, but the Johnny looking down at him is also Kreese as the pressure tightens around his airway and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t  _ breathe - _

Everything he touches turns to shit. 

The door opens and Johnny screws up his face to tell his mom he’s not feeling well when a heavy weight lands on the bed.

“Get up, Ace,” Bobby says cheerfully, “It’s Christmas.”


	5. December 24th, 1984 - AM - Daniel

When someone knocks at the door at 11.59 Daniel thinks it’s Mr Miyagi. He didn’t know an apartment maintenance man could get so busy, particularly during a winter where the lowest the mercury drops is about 50 degrees, what could possibly be going wrong in people’s apartments - 

He opens the door in a t-shirt and sleep shorts - give him a break, he’s regrowing his  _ leg _ and he’s eighteen, he’s allowed to sleep in - and nearly falls sideways when he realises he’s just opened his home to three Cobras.

Tommy.

Bobby Brown.

And Johnny Lawrence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a Johnny stan that I'd like to remind everyone that Daniel won the 1984 All-Valley unlawfully - the retcon for TKK2 aged him up two years - because he was not under eighteen


	6. December 24th, 1984 - AM - Johnny

Johnny’s eyes immediately go to the intricate looking brace around LaRusso’s knee and he feels fury like someone just lit a Zippo in his ribcage.

Fury that dissipates almost immediately; after all, there’s nowhere for it to go but at himself. 

He looks even smaller with the crutch. He wants to pick LaRusso up and throw him back onto the couch, why is he even putting any weight on it - 

_ “You’re such a fucking caveman,” _ he hears LaRusso growl in his mind, and a blush begins to creep up Johnny’s neck. 


	7. December 24th, 1984 - PM - Daniel

Daniel actually does fall sideways in the end; he tries to get both legs moving and the left one isn’t having it, brace creaking as it fights his muscles and horrible white pain shoots up his entire body, sending him down. He hits the floor with a thud.

So, let’s check it off:

  * He’s in his sleepwear.



  * On the floor.



  * His gimp leg is twitching like he can’t control it, which, fair point, he actually can’t at the minute. 



  * The boys who have been after him all school year, who potentially crippled him for life, are watching him like a bunch of cats would watch a fallen bird. 



  * Said boys, fucking rich kids all, can see into and presumably mock his shithole apartment.



  * None of them took a serious injury in the tournament, but Daniel might as well be an ant on the fucking pavement, there’s no way he can fight them.



“Don’t just stand there, pick him up,” Johnny says moodily, tossing his fringe out of his eyes, and oh, yeah.

  * There’s the subject of Daniel’s last eight jerk-off sessions. 



  * OK, last _ten_ jerk-off sessions. 



He sends a frantic thought in the direction of his dick: _If you get hard right now I will cut you the fuck off_.

Bobby and Tommy bend towards him, presumably so they can throw Daniel against the nearest wall and beat the shit out of him. Daniel swipes up his crutch and brandishes it, and both boys pause. “Don’t touch me,” he warns. 

The two boys exchange a glance and then straighten back up, and now Daniel feels like a bit of an idiot because he has to get up from the floor, and there’s no way he can make it a cool move. The Cobras don’t move from the doorway, watching as Daniel rolls onto his front and pushes himself up, hopping his good leg underneath him in a sort of half-burpee. He bends and picks up his crutch before turning back to the door, tries to act like the last two minutes didn’t happen. 

“What the hell do you want?”

“We came to say sorry,” Bobby says immediately, “All of us.”

“All of you,” Daniel repeats flatly, eyes going from Tommy, to the air beside Johnny’s head - he’s not taking any risks, not in these shorts - to Bobby. Bobby shrugs.

“Jimmy would be here, but he’s away with his folks.”

Daniel doesn’t ask where Dutch is; he knows a Christmas miracle has happened to get three Cobras here, it would take a goddamn angel coming down from heaven to make Dutch apologise.

“We brought you these,” Tommy reaches back to take a bag from Johnny, and hands it to Daniel.

It’s nothing they couldn’t have gotten from the minimart down the road - there are snacks in there, some chocolates and a little six-pack of beer - but it’s so weirdly _nice_ of them that Daniel’s brain short circuits for a second. This has to be a trick of some kind. 

“OK,” he says, “What’s the play?” 

“Well if you wanted to offer us a beer I wouldn’t say no -” Tommy starts, before getting thumped in quick succession by both his friends. 

Bobby lifts his hands up, shakes his head. 

“No play, man,” he says, “We just wanted to say sorry. And Johnny thought you were probably stuck inside with your leg, so we thought we’d bring snacks.”

“Huh,” He looks at Johnny but the guy is now looking away, as if there’s something really fucking interesting on the pathway next door. “Well thanks guys, this really helps, I can feel my MCL knitting back together as we speak,”

“Oh shit, they got your MCL,” Tommy says, and there’s a look of such goofy interest on his face that Daniel nearly laughs, “What grade?”

“Two,” Daniel says, directing a scowl up at Bobby and Johnny. They duck their heads; apparently Reseda carpets are worthy of intense study. 

“Nice!” The ghoul fucking _guffaws_ , and even Johnny and Bobby start staring at him like _shut the fuck up_. Tommy bends down, pulls the cuff of his jeans up above his right knee with considerable effort and says, “I got a grade three in sophomore year.”

There’s a big scar running the length of his kneecap, and Daniel feels a sick fascination. He hadn’t needed surgery in the end; his doctor had been satisfied with six weeks in a brace, but he had gone to great lengths to impress just how lucky Daniel had been to dodge the operating table. It looks like a pretty gnarly procedure, judging by Tommy’s scar. 

“Do you remember, Johnny?” Tommy throws an elbow back into his friend’s hip, “We were trying to climb the cliff down in Malibu and I slipped. Surgery took four hours.”

The three of them are still looking at Tommy like he needs fucking _brain_ surgery. 

“I remember Sensei making you fight on it about two weeks into your recovery,” Bobby mutters, glancing up at Johnny. Johnny looks back impassively, eyes blank and impossibly blue. 

“Yeah,” Tommy shrugs, “So much for that, right?”

Daniel feels… odd, with the small talk going on in his doorway. He’s established that they’re not there to beat the shit out of him, and they’re making an effort to have a conversation with him, even if it’s a weird, sorta fucked-up conversation.

Well, Tommy and Bobby are making the effort. Johnny hasn’t spoken to Daniel directly yet, and it’s probably just as well. 

He really should get dressed, but he doesn’t want to snap this recently extended olive branch. 

“Do you guys wanna come inside?”

“Sorry, man,” Bobby says, and there’s what looks like genuine regret in his eyes, “I gotta shoot home, I’m pretty much grounded after the tournament.”

“Yeah, I gotta go help my mom with Christmas stuff,” Tommy looks down at the bag in Daniel’s hand, “But I could take one for the road?”

Despite everything, even though Daniel can still hear Tommy yell “Get him a body bag!” across the All Valley Tournament mat, Tommy’s optimism startles a laugh out of him. He opens up the bag and the guy reaches in to pull out a can of beer. 

“You’re alright, man,” he says, and nudges Daniel’s shoulder before making his exit. Bobby likewise pats Daniel’s arm before he leaves, and Daniel wonders what it is they put in the water down at Cobra Kai that has these guys so goddamn touchy-feely. 

Then it’s just him and Johnny, and Daniel is really regretting thinking about the phrase touchy-feely. Now that it’s just the two of them there’s nowhere for either of them to hide and Johnny finally looks down at him, those cool blue eyes meeting his and then Daniel is back in that locker room, looking down at Johnny as he tells Daniel to -

As casually as he dares, he holds the bag of snacks in front of his crotch - _I'll cut you off, right the fuck off_ , he promises his dick, _don't get hard_ \- and he doesn’t know why he says it but he says:

“Do you wanna come inside?”

Something flashes in Johnny’s eyes, but it’s gone before Daniel knows what it was. The boy shakes his head, and runs his hand through those white-blonde locks.

“I can’t,” he says, “I gotta be home too. Do you, um, need anything else?”

Johnny points at his crotch and Daniel could swear he goes red to the tips of his ears. His mouth drops open to say _yes, take off your shirt_ before he realises Johnny is pointing at the bag of snacks as he continues:

“I figure you can’t get to the store, so if you need any more snacks I could get them. Or if you need me to return your videos?”

He’s looking past Daniel into the apartment, at the stack of video boxes by the TV, and thank _Christ_ he is because Daniel is hard again, what the hell is wrong with him, why doesn’t he just write _I’m hot for you_ on his goddamn forehead. He opens the bag and looks inside, trying to act casual and ignore the sensation against his dick, feigns innocence when he says: 

“No man, it’s cool, you got everything.”

“What about the videos?”

“Nah, those are Ali’s. She gave me the lend of ‘em before she went off to Aspen for Christmas.”

He wants to slap himself. Three months of torture from this guy because of Ali, and now he’s bringing her up to Johnny’s face while Daniel has a hard-on from thinking about Johnny himself.

Messy.

Johnny doesn’t flare up, doesn’t react in the way that Daniel expects. Instead, he nods, looking down to kick the base of the doorframe lightly. 

“You know,” he says to the ground, “my stepdad is a bigtime Hollywood producer. He’s got tons of videos.”

“Really?” Daniel replies, “Who’s your stepdad?”

“His name is Sid Weinberg. He’s an asshole. But he has whole rooms full of videos he doesn't watch. If you want, you could come round and pick a few? If you need more.” He tosses his fringe out of his eyes again and squints down at Daniel. 

Daniel has died and gone to heaven. It’s not quite the scenario he envisioned when Johnny Lawrence showed up at his door - that involved a lot more shirtlessness and a lot more bodily fluids - but this is a pretty close second. He’s not going to get his ass kicked, and he gets videos? Win-win. 

Except:

“That’d be awesome, man,” he says, “But I can’t really ride my bike like this.” Daniel shuffles on the spot, trying to highlight his brace without also highlighting his erection which still _hasn’t gone down, fucking go away Johnny_. 

“I’ll come pick you up,” Johnny shrugs, and starts to walk away. Over his shoulder, he says, “Just call. We're in the phone book.”

Daniel watches him go until his head bobs down the staircase out of sight. Then he shuts the door, puts his back to the wood and slides down, reaching into his shorts yet again. 

“I’m gonna need to tape you down if we go over there,” he sighs, “This is getting weird.”

* * *

Later, he checks the phone book, and feels a hot stab of excitement when he finds _Weinberg, Sidney_. 


	8. December 26th, AM - Daniel

Christmas Day was a blur. His mom pulled out all the stops, she really did, and even though Daniel offered to do the dinner she was up from 7am prepping the turkey and my god, what a turkey. It’s a good thing he likes turkey because they’re going to be eating it for about a week.

He’s lying on the sofa in something of a food coma when the phone rings, and he’s tempted to let it ring. He spoke to Ali briefly on Christmas Eve and the line was much better but she was distracted by something in the background so he’d cut the call short again. 

It rings, and rings, and rings, and Daniel finally relents. Maybe this call will be different. 

“Hello?”

“What took you so long?” Johnny gripes down the phone, and Daniel refuses to abide that sort of attitude this early in the morning, no matter how much he jerks off to a person.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can’t move so good recently on account of you nearly broke my fucking leg.”

Johnny doesn't back down, of course he doesn't: “Your apartment is like ten feet across, LaRusso, you can’t hop?”

“You know what, rich kid, fucking blow me,” he snaps, and it’s out of his mouth and in the ether before he can take it back and suddenly he’s thinking how it would feel to look down at Johnny with that mouth around his dick and then the silence on the other end of the phone swallows the whole world.

Neither of them say anything for what feels like a fucking long time, and Daniel is thinking he’s about to get his video privileges revoked when Johnny says:

“What time should I pick you up?”

“Just couldn’t wait for me to call you, huh?” Daniel says, and slaps a palm to his forehead. Is he flirting? He’s an idiot. Flirting with Johnny Lawrence is like punching a rottweiler; eventually someone will get bitten and it probably won’t be the rottweiler. 

Silence again, and he thinks Johnny has hung up when he says:

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

And then Johnny does hang up. 


	9. December 26th, AM - Johnny

He just lies there staring at the ceiling for a good ten minutes, not sure what he’s feeling. Is he annoyed at LaRusso?

Trick question. He’s always annoyed at LaRusso. 

_ “You know what, rich kid, fucking blow me,” _

He could. It would be so easy to pin LaRusso down and - 

Johnny grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans. 

He could just chalk this up as a symptom of his loserness. Not only is Johnny Lawrence a loser in the All-Valley, he's also managed to lose his heterosexuality as well. And to LaRusso, of all people. The guy is practically a girl. Johnny can't even be gay for someone manly.

Except. The stuff with LaRusso happened while Johnny was still King Karate, undefeated two-time All-Valley champion, and he'd felt every inch a champion when he sauntered out of that locker room with the smell of LaRusso's aftershave clinging to him.

Anyway, it felt good. Beating LaRusso up felt good too but it was always transitory, the good feeling disappeared as soon as he stopped, whereas the clash of tongues and frantic jerk-off session in the locker room had Johnny feeling good for hours afterwards.

Until the kick.

Until the parking lot.

Then the memory of his dream comes back, and his dick twitches at the image of LaRusso above him, his hand wrapped around that slim throat, before he squeezes too hard and LaRusso is struggling to breathe -  _ no, I didn't,  _ Johnny thinks frantically - and then it's him and Kreese in the parking lot and Johnny's just a loser, a fucking loser who can't breathe -

A knock at the door.

"Honey? Are you up?"

"Yeah," he calls, and Laura opens his door to stick her head in.

"I'm going down to the beach if you want to come?" she says, giving Johnny a little smile, the one she saves for when it's just the two of them. It helps Johnny imagine that there's no Sid, that it's just him and his mom against the world. 

"It's ok, mom," he says, "I'm going out soon."

"Hot date?"

Johnny laughs, and he's sure he shares Laura's amazement when he realises the laugh is genuine.

"Sort of."


	10. December 26th, PM - Daniel

There are hundreds of videos. 

Daniel is in VHS heaven.

There’s movies he hasn’t heard of in here, and movies that aren’t even in English. They’re loosely based by year, like this Sid guy just puts the video on the shelf when he gets it and then forgets about it, so it’s like going on an odyssey through movies.

“Man, why would you ever leave the house when you have a collection like this?” He sorts through the videos he’s already picked up -  _ Flash Gordon, Alien, The Warriors, Evil Dead _ \- and given that he’s only half-speaking to Johnny he’s mildly surprised when the boy responds.

“It’s Sid’s collection, not mine,” Johnny is lying on the couch reading a magazine, voice bored. “And if I spend too much time inside he starts calling me Boo Radley, whatever the fuck that is.”

The image of Johnny Lawrence as Boo Radley makes Daniel’s brain short-circuit for a second, and then he’s laughing so hard he thinks he’s going to die. 

In between roars of hilarity, bent double, tears streaming from his eyes, he knows Johnny is staring at him and he can practically feel the annoyance radiating off him.

“Boo Radley,” he chokes between honking laughter, “Of course you’re Boo fucking Radley,”

The magazine flaps to the ground, and then Johnny is right in front of him, crowding into his personal space just like - 

Just like in the locker room.

“I am not,” Johnny says, jaw tight with anger, “Boo fucking Radley.”

Daniel stares up at Johnny, letting his eyes wander over his broad shoulders, up the thick column of his neck and into his sky blue eyes.

“No,” he agrees, “you’re not.”

Calmly, deliberately, he let his gaze drop to Johnny’s lips.

“You’re Johnny fucking Lawrence.”

The anger on Johnny’s face dissipates, and he smirks. He slowly lifts a hand to trail fingertips up the back of Daniel’s neck, before fisting his hand in his hair and pulling tight. All the air leaves Daniel’s lungs in a whoosh, and arousal hits him like a punch to the stomach. 

“And don’t you forget it,” Johnny murmurs. 

He leans in, and Daniel half-closes his eyes. His whole body is aching with desire, and he never really understood that phrase before because it was always localised in his dick but now it’s in every atom of his body, it’s in his fucking  _ blood _ . He wants to lick his lips but their faces are so close he might lick Johnny’s instead.

Suddenly licking his lips seems like a very good idea. 

Before he can a door slams down the hall, and a woman’s voice rings out through the house.

“Johnny? Are you back?”

Johnny's grip on his hair tightens to the point of pain - Daniel is slipping past the point of coherent thought but  _ jesus fuck that feels good  _ \- and then it’s gone and Johnny is stalking towards the door, cursing under his breath. He opens the door a crack and yells back:

“Yeah, mom, TV room.”

Daniel limps to the couch and sits down, piling videos onto his lap to cover his shame. He starts when Johnny lands beside him, scooping up the fallen magazine and opening to his page.

His ears have gone pink.

The door swings open and the most beautiful woman Daniel has ever seen pops her head through the doorway. She beams at her son, Johnny's sharp, predatory grin made softer in her face, and there's a flicker of surprise on her face when she looks at Daniel.

"Hi there," she says, "you must be the hot date."

Daniel isn't sure what she means but Johnny makes an indignant sound in the back of his throat, one that Daniel wishes he had on tape because he never envisioned Johnny could make a noise like that, and it makes him laugh in delight.

"Yes ma'am," he replies, "that's me. Daniel LaRusso."

"LaRusso? Where do I know that name?"

With a little grunt, Daniel lifts his leg slightly, drawing her attention to the brace around his knee. Her eyes narrow slightly.

"That's where I know that name. Daniel, I do hope my son didn't cause you any permanent damage?"

Johnny ducks his head a little and Daniel suspects it isn't the first time the incident has come up in this household. He smiles, as if Bobby and Johnny’s combined assault was just a funny prank and not the cause of the worst pain he’s ever experienced.

"No ma'am, five more weeks with this thing and then it'll be good as new."

"That's good," she says, "and Johnny is making it up to you?"

"Oh yes," he smiles, and puts a hand on Johnny's leg in what he hopes is an innocuous fashion, "he certainly is."

"I am sitting right here," Johnny mutters, and it's all Daniel can do not to reach out and ruffle his hair. He's never seen him this docile; clearly Johnny Lawrence is something of a momma's boy.

"Well I was going to make some lunch, if you boys would like some?"

"That would be amaz-"

"No mom we're fi-"

Their words cross, tangle, and halt in mid-air and Johnny gives Daniel a flat look. Feeling bold in Mrs Lawrence's - Mrs Weinberg's - presence, Daniel responds with what he hopes is a cherubic smile, and tightens his grip on Johnny's leg ever so slightly before releasing.

"That would be amazing, Mrs Weinberg," he says to her.

Johnny's mom smiles.

"Please," she says, "call me Laura."


	11. December 26th, PM - Johnny

This was such a bad fucking idea.

LaRusso, like every other male who enters their house, is completely besotted with his mom. He's hanging off her every word, laughing hysterically at her anecdotes and being a general nuisance.

Dutch has actually been unofficially banned from the Weinberg household for similar behaviour.

Unlike the others, however, his mom actually seems to like LaRusso too. She’s nice to Tommy and Bobby, sure, but she's not comfortable with them like she is with LaRusso. Tommy and Bobby remind her of who Johnny has become; a stark reminder that the reason he is close with these boisterous, loud fighters with their short tempers is because he has become one too. He's not her little boy any more.

Johnny wonders if LaRusso reminds her of himself, pre-Cobra Kai.

He wonders if that's why LaRusso has such a hold on  _ him _ .

He was  _ so close _ to pinning LaRusso against the wall in the TV room. That thick hair felt so good in his hand, and the way he  _ gasped _ when Johnny clenched his fist - 

Johnny told himself he would stay away from LaRusso. Keep it friendly, sure, make amends, right, but that was it. But the kid makes it hard.

Literally.

_ "Boo Radley," _ he hears LaRusso's giggle in his mind, and that wave of confused anger washes over him. 

Johnny always feels like he's a step behind. When Sid calls him Boo Radley, it doesn't matter that he doesn't know what he means - nothing that comes out of Sid's mouth bodes well for Johnny. He knows how Sid sees him.

As a loser.

To hear LaRusso, of all people, chuckling the name had been more than he could bear. LaRusso, who spent so much of the last four months laughing at him, tormenting him with those big brown eyes.

And that’s what all of this shit has been about. The beatdowns, the intimidation, even the locker room - all so he could show LaRusso that he’s not a fucking loser. He wants - needs - LaRusso to see him properly. 

_"You're Johnny fucking Lawrence."_

And maybe he does.


	12. December 26th, PM - Daniel, again

“Give me the food.”

“You already have the videos.”

“And I have two working legs. You’re gonna need both hands to get up the stairs,” Johnny’s voice is infuriatingly calm, as if Daniel is being unreasonable. 

“And whose fault is it that my leg doesn’t work?”

His mouth goes tight, and anger flashes in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have used your injured limb to strike.”

Daniel’s jaw drops. “Are you  _ kidding _ me? Bobby got a lifetime ban and you got a fucking warning for what you did to me, don’t try and stand there and tell me it was  _ my  _ fault.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault, LaRusso, I said don’t strike with an injury.” He pushes past Daniel at the base of the stairs and jogs up to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time like he wants to rub it in that Daniel is stuck hobbling like an old man.

He just stands there for a second, wondering how he fucking does it. How Johnny switches his whole fucking personality, how easily he slips back into his fucking Cobra Kai - is it a persona? Daniel guesses it counts as a persona, he spent the afternoon with the guy and his mom for Christ’s sake, he knows Johnny is capable of acting like a human being. To turn it off like that… 

He shakes his head, and puts his hand on the railing. The stairs aren’t impossible - he tries to use them as often as he can - but they’re not fun. 

Good leg - up. Bad leg - up.

Just fourteen more to go.

The railing judders under his hand; Johnny is making the whole staircase vibrate as he trots back down. He draws level with Daniel, pauses, and then steps onto the ground below, and Daniel thinks he’s about to leave, gets his mouth open and ready to tell Johnny he’s a real piece of work, that he can take his videos and his blue eyes and go fu-

Johnny turns so that his back is squarely facing Daniel, and holds his hands by his sides.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder, “I’ll carry you up.”

Daniel can’t believe his ears. This dude is fucking bananas. He’s pretty sure there’s a name for whatever is wrong with Johnny. A Something complex. 

His shoulders are so fucking broad. 

“LaRusso, get over it. It’ll take five seconds.”

“Five seconds, and then forty-five minutes for the ambulance to get here when you drop me down the stairs.”

“I’m not going to drop you,” Johnny throws a scornful look back at him, “Just get on.”

Daniel stands there for a few more seconds, and then thinks  _ fuck it _ . He swings his left leg up first, trying not to twitch when Johnny takes a grip halfway up his thigh to avoid the brace. Then Daniel hops the rest of the way up and rests his hands on those massive shoulders and Johnny barely moves during the whole thing, because he's built like a fucking tree trunk. Once Daniel is on his back he walks in a small circle to turn around, being mindful with his leg, and starts up the stairs. He's slow, and careful, but Daniel doesn't seem to be too much of a burden.

_ He has lifted you before _ , Daniel thinks, and swallows hard.

"I am sorry about your leg," Johnny says, "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You wanted to win," he shrugs.

"So did you. But you didn't do what we did."

"If I thought  _ I _ could take  _ you _ down," he says, hands patting Johnny's wide shoulders to illustrate his point, "I might have done."

Johnny makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and then he's setting Daniel down at his front door. The space on his thigh where Johnny's hand was is suddenly cold.

"Do you wanna come in?" He wants Johnny to say yes. And not just because things might get sexy between them - though he wants that too, he'll definitely be thinking about the hair pulling for a while - but the longer Johnny is in his company the more is revealed. What was once a terrifying asshole with a black belt and a temper problem is now, well, a sort-of-OK asshole with a black belt and a temper problem.

Sometimes Daniel thinks it's like looking into a mirror.

Not an actual mirror, obviously - the two of them are like night and day - but there's a spark in Johnny that Daniel recognises because that spark is in him, too.

"No, I gotta get back," Johnny says. He helps Daniel ferry the bags into the apartment, before lingering at the door on his way out. 

Johnny looks at the ground outside and kicks their door frame lightly again, why does he hate their apartment, and Daniel is about to tell him off but then Johnny is staring down at him and the words die in his throat. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, and Daniel is nonplussed.

"You said it already, man," he replies. "Water under the bridge."

"No," now a dark blush is staining Johnny's cheeks, and Daniel is a little mesmerized because he didn't know this arrogant prick could get this embarrassed, "not for the leg. For -"

His hand comes up to his own throat, circling it lightly, and with a jolt that is nearly physical Daniel is back in the locker room with that massive hand around his neck and he hears Johnny murmur " _ Come for me, Daniel," _ and he's not thinking straight, he's not thinking at  _ all _ because all of his blood has rushed in the direction of his dick.

He doesn't handle it well.

From within the storm of hormones it occurs to him that if Johnny is apologising, he regrets it, and Daniel is confused because there was that moment in the TV room but he's not an asshole, right, so rather than pulling Johnny in by the waistband of his jeans and dragging him to the couch Daniel slams the door in Johnny's face.

It's as much to hide his hard-on as it is to remove the temptation, put Johnny out of reach because if he has to look up at that goddamn face a second longer he will lose whatever shred of dignity and self-control he still possesses.

And then because dignity and self-control are overrated Daniel palms himself through his jeans while resting his forehead against the closed door.

"It's fine!" He calls, and takes a shuddering breath at the pressure he's applying. It's nowhere near enough.

"OK," Johnny says from the other side of the door, and Daniel feels so fucking guilty because the guy sounds so down about it but the floodgates are open now, he needs to go sort himself out so it means saying goodbye to that unreachable beanpole outside.

"Thanks for the videos," he half-yells before hobbling towards his bedroom, and he almost misses it but Johnny replies:

"Any time."


	13. December 26th, PM - Johnny, again

“I’m so proud of you for making friends with that boy,” Laura says over dinner. Sid is staying late at the office, so it’s just the two of them.

Johnny feels his ears going pink again, and shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth so he doesn’t have to respond. His mom smiles, and he gets a sinking realisation that he’s not getting off that easily.

“He seems like a lovely kid,” she says. “Will you invite him round again?”

He shrugs, but it’s not enough.

“It can’t be easy for him being stuck inside, with his mom working. Maybe you could take him to the beach?”

His ears are now on fire, and the fact that his mom can definitely see him blushing makes them feel even hotter.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, and keeps shovelling. He won’t be going near LaRusso again after the way he ran off earlier, but there’s no need to tell his mom all of that. 

He hears the way LaRusso shouted  _ “it’s fine!”  _ from the other side of the door, his voice short like he was on the verge of tears, and the meal hardens into a lump in his stomach. 

* * *

He’s trying for the millionth time to get into  _ Wuthering Heights _ \- now that the tournament is over, there’s no excuse to slip back into his Ace Degenerate ways and Johnny is determined to give this studying stuff a go - when the phone rings. He pauses, thinking it might be one of the Cobras calling for him until Laura laughs down the phone and Johnny reluctantly goes back to the book.  _ How do people read this shit?  _

“Honey!” his mom calls up to him, “Phone!”

A little confused - it could be one of his mother’s family, but he spoke to them yesterday - he reaches over to the handset sitting by his bed.

“Hello?”

“Hey Johnny,” LaRusso says, “I wanted to -”

“Wait,” Johnny snaps. “Mom?”

There’s no response, but a second later he hears a soft - _ click! _ \- that tells him his mom has replaced the other handset. 

“Go ahead.”

“So,” he says, and Johnny can practically see the smug look on LaRusso’s face, “I hear you’re taking me to the beach?”

He rubs his eyes. Of course she mentioned it.

“That sounds nice, man, we could bring a picnic, make a day of it -”

“LaRusso,” Johnny says, voice low. After what happened earlier, he’s not in the mood to get teased. The kid is well within his rights to want to back off, but he’s not making it any easier for Johnny. “What do you want?”

“I needed to check, right, because I was pretty sure but then I was sitting here watching  _ Flash Gordon _ \- dude, it’s so amazing, the soundtrack is crazy good and the acting is super dramatic but then there’s this gigantic air battle between these robots and a bunch of birdmen -”

He can’t listen to this all night. “Daniel!”

LaRusso trails off, and silence fills the line. Johnny thinks he’s hung up, that he’s finally gotten rid of that dark-eyed nightmare, and then:

“What did you mean when you said sorry for - that?”

He doesn’t need to elaborate, and Johnny’s heartbeat quickens. LaRusso’s breathing seems to get louder in his ear and he wonders if this is what people mean when they say waiting with bated breath. 

“I,” he flashes on his dream, LaRusso’s face turning purple above him, and then Kreese is choking him again and the air leaves his lungs, “I can’t -”

“Johnny, man,” LaRusso’s voice is soft, and strong, “It’s OK. Take your time. Breathe.”

LaRusso starts taking deep breaths on his end of the line, steady inhales and exhales that are like a lifeline through the phone, and a wave of gratitude washes through him. Johnny tries to pair his breathing to LaRusso's and, little by little, the iron band around his chest eases enough for him to say:

“I know how it feels.”

LaRusso doesn’t respond, and when the pressure decreases some more Johnny tries to elaborate:

“I couldn’t breathe. He nearly killed me.”

Still no reply, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell LaRusso who ‘he’ is. The guy was there, after all - his sensei was the one who saved Johnny. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he finishes, and tries to stop his chest from caving in. 

“Johnny,” his name leaves LaRusso’s mouth as a sigh, as a caress, and it’s too much. 

Johnny slams the phone back in its cradle, pulls a pillow over his head, and curls up into a ball. 


	14. December 27th, AM - Daniel

He doesn’t know what to do. 

Ali calls at 10am, making it very clear that she took time from skiing to check in on Daniel and see how he’s doing but it’s a short conversation because he’s not in a chatty mood. He can’t focus on what she’s saying, what she’s asking, because all he hears is Johnny Lawrence’s laboured breathing and Daniel isn’t a doctor but he knows a fucking panic attack when he hears one. 

He gives one more disinterested response to a question - he thinks it was a question - and then Ali is hanging up with a scoff, but he can’t bring himself to worry about it. 

He doesn’t know what to fucking do.

Should he ring Johnny? He doesn’t want to push it, and he doesn’t want to put his own pleasure first but he feels like it would help to let Johnny know that what Kreese did to Johnny and what he did to him were two very different things. 

But a ringing phone is easy to ignore.

* * *

“Daniel! This is a lovely surprise,” Laura opens the door wide, gesturing for Daniel to come in. “Did your mom start work late? How did you get all the way to Encino?”

“Oh, I uh, I got a cab,” he replies, hopping into the entrance hall on his crutch, “It was actually my first cab ride in LA, so…”

Laura gives him a look of alarm. “Oh sweetie, you should have called! Johnny would come get you. Here,” she picks up her purse and starts to rummage through it, eventually pulling out a wad of cash, “for the fare.”

The cab cost $15; Laura is holding at least $50. “Oh, Mrs Weinberg, I couldn’t,” Daniel says, holding his hands up, except this is the wrong move because now Laura is folding his fingers over the money, and she’s looking at him with wide blue eyes and it turns out those things are like, his Kryptonite, because he’s accepting the money, “Thank you.”

“It’s Laura,” she reminds him, “and it’s no problem. Truth be told, I’m glad you’re here. Johnny’s been a bit down recently, and it’s good that he’s making new friends.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that - he’s certainly not going to tell Laura the truth if Johnny hasn’t - so he just nods as she breezes away. 

“He’s still in bed,” she calls over her shoulder. “Upstairs, third door on the left.”

* * *

It takes him a solid two minutes to climb the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'It's one cab ride, Daniel. What could it cost, $50?'


	15. December 27th, AM - Johnny

As he’s rising out of his dreams, dreams that even now slip through his fingers like smoke, Johnny feels a weight settle on the edge of his bed. He buries his face further into his pillow, and lets out a sleepy huff.

“OK, mom,” he grumbles, “I’m getting up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” a voice that definitely does not belong to his mom replies, and Johnny’s eyes slam open. The arrival into full wakefulness nearly hurts, it’s so sudden, and he flips over to see LaRusso perched beside him. 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and puts both hands over his eyes, “Why are you here?”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re hot,” LaRusso tells him, and Johnny ignores the heat that blooms in his stomach at the compliment, “It’s OK that you’re not a morning person but you don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

Johnny sits up in bed and crosses his arms, noting the way LaRusso’s eyes flicker down to his bare chest before the guy turns his whole face away, looking at the wall of Johnny’s bedroom. Johnny clenches his jaw.  _ So that’s how it is. _

“I came because I was worried about you,” LaRusso continues, still staring at the far wall, and now he can’t blame LaRusso for not looking at him because Johnny can’t even look at his face in profile so he stares down the length of the bed at where his feet are tucked under his duvet. “And I wanted to tell you something.”

“We have a phone,” Johnny tells his feet, and LaRusso laughs at that. 

“Don’t give me that,” he says. “You wouldn’t have picked up.”

He doesn’t reply. 

“What you did to me in that locker room was not the same as what Kreese did to you,” LaRusso says firmly. “I need you to understand that.”

Johnny tightens his arms, hugging himself tighter. He doesn’t need pity from LaRusso.

“I know you don’t,” LaRusso says, and Johnny’s ears heat up when he realises he said it aloud, “and that’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” he spits out, and chances a look at LaRusso only to see that LaRusso is finally looking back. 

For a long minute they just stare at each other, and he feels like a puzzle LaRusso is trying to solve, the way those big brown eyes are searching his own, and he wants him to solve it, wants LaRusso to tell him the answer because Johnny has no fucking clue what to do.

Finally, LaRusso nods to himself, and stands up. Johnny is about to reach out, to pull him back down because he doesn’t want to let him just walk away, he  _ can’t _ \- 

LaRusso turns, places his knee on the bed against the outside of Johnny’s thigh and awkwardly swings his braced leg over to sit on Johnny’s lap. There’s a duvet between them, and the way his leg is stretched can’t be comfortable, but LaRusso’s face is calm as he pulls Johnny’s arm free from where it’s folded across his chest.

“This is me,” he says, uncurling Johnny’s fingers, and slowly, so slowly, like he might break, placing his open hand against his throat, “telling you you can do it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> I figured there's very little chance Daniel knows the ins and outs of SSC / RACK, but he's doing his best...


End file.
